To Have and To Hold
by Soraya the All Speaker
Summary: Lavellan still can't believe her good luck - Josephine is hers. A snapshot of a day in the first week of their relationship.


One week after her confession to Josephine, Riayl is rather sure she is still walking around in a haze of happiness. Each evening has been filled with walks on the battlements, dinners in Josephine's office as the diplomat works on papers and Riayl sits next to her reading, talking in front of a fire late into the night. Josephine cannot seem to stop touching her either, and that brings a flutter of happiness to Riayl's heart; Josephine has feelings for her too. Intellectually she knows this, but it is much more pleasant to feel the Antivan's fingers interlaced with hers, a deft hand threading through her hair, the brief brushes against her shoulder or back as though Josephine is reminding herself that Riayl is there. Not that she isn't guilty of the same thing. Riayl has never been overly fond of human contact, but now she finds that there is something comforting about the warmth of Josephine's arms around her waist, or leaning into the Antivan's side with her head on Josephine's chest and simply hearing her heartbeat and feeling her breathe.

The elf doesn't bother knocking on Josephine's door, knowing the Ambassador doesn't have any meetings planned for the rest of the day. Her heart is thumping in her chest, and she feels positively giddy. Simply thinking about stolen kisses with Josephine are enough to do this to her – the touches, when they happen, send her over the moon.

The smile Josephine gives her when the diplomat looks up from her work to see Riayl approaching – it, too, is enough to make her dizzy with happiness. "My lady?" Josephine has not yet stopped calling her that, but now it is more of an endearment than a title. _Her_ lady – the elf finds that in this instance, she doesn't mind being possessed. Indeed, she revels in it.

"Josephine, I was wondering if…" even with her anticipation, Riayl still finds it hard to voice the words. They're so…blunt. "If I could steal you away for a few minutes?" She is red by the time she finishes the sentence, but at least Josephine blushes as well, the light flush spreading across her cheeks and nose and making her freckles stand out all the more, and only enhancing her beauty in Riayl's eyes.

"I have so much to do…" the Antivan glances down at the papers spread in front of her, the correspondence awaiting replies...and then back up at Riayl's hopeful look. "But oh, let's do. After you."

A brilliant smile breaks across the elf's face as she leans down to give Josephine a quick kiss – because why would she pass up the opportunity to feel the sun sing in her veins and breathe in that wonderful scent? – grab her hand, and tug the diplomat to her feet. "Come on then!" The giggles that her actions draw from Josephine's throat are music to her ears.

The gazebo in the garden has become _their_ place so that is where they go, Riayl slowing her pace when Josephine weaves her arm through the crook of the elf's elbow. She savors the contact, allowing her free hand to come up and cover on Josephine's fingers where they rest. The gesture garners her a knowing glance, but there is caring and affection in Josephine's gaze, so Riayl simply blushes and looks down which earns her another tinkling laugh.

Nobody bothers them as they walk the short path to the gazebo, although the whispers of the visiting Orlesian nobles are hard to ignore. She manages, though, because she has Josephine next to her, and the Antivan doesn't seem to be bothered by any attention they receive. If Josephine doesn't care, neither will she – after all, the only reason to care would be to defend her sweetheart.

The garden is ripe with the smells of blossoming flowers, undercut with the tang of clear water drawn from the well in the center. When Josephine starts to walk towards the gazebo, Riayl gently disengages Josephine's hand from her elbow, although she doesn't let go. "You go ahead, I have to get something."

Josephine looks at her curiously, but Riayl simply answers with a mysterious smile as she draws back, towards her secret project. She has been collecting seeds from the various plants and herbs they come across ever since the Inquisition's arrival at Skyhold and the discovery of the garden and its pots. Her Clan never really grew any herbs of their own – they never stayed in one place long enough – but Riayl knew the theory. Plant the seeds, keep the soil fresh and moist, remove any weeds that seek to inhabit the pots. She had tried her hand with a few of the more common herbs – elfroot, embrium, spindleweed – before finally working up the courage to plant the flowers she _really_ wanted.

Black lotus and prophet's laurel, the two scents she always associates with Josephine. It had taken many nights of lying awake, puzzling over what those light floral aromas that always floated around Josephine were, as well as sticking her nose into many flowers, but she figured it out.

She works quickly, plucking the sprigs of prophet's laurel she has cultivated and winding them around each other to form a wreath. She has years of practice from making throwing discs out of branches and flowers, so it is only a minute before she has a sturdy circlet. Next come the black lotus, five opened flowers that she carefully wind in and amongst the buds of the prophet's laurel. She wanted the garland to be fresh, or she would have brought it to Josephine earlier.

Riayl hurries back to the gazebo, where Josephine is standing in the shadows, a little smile on her lips. "Close your eyes." She doesn't step forward or bring the wreath out from behind her back until she's sure Josephine has obeyed. She can tell the diplomat desperately wants to ask, but she holds her tongue.

The elf steps forward, holding the garland in two hands as she lowers it onto Josephine's head. It is a little loose, but Josephine's customary bun keeps the circlet from slipping too far, and a two black lotus flowers end up framing the Ambassador's forehead. It's beautiful – _she's_ beautiful. Josephine's eyes are still closed as her hands come up to investigate what has just be placed on her head, but Riayl captures the questing fingers instead and leans forward to brush her lips over Josephine's.

The simple contact is not enough; she releases the Antivan's fingers so her hands can frame Josephine's face instead, tilting her head back slightly to deepen the kiss as her own eyes slip closed. She can feel Josephine's hands flutter with indecision before alighting on her shoulders, then one ghosts down her arm and side to rest on her hip, drawing the elf's body closer.

All of her attention is focused on the warmth of Josephine's lips, the softness of her body pressed against Riayl's own, the nearly inaudible sigh of happiness that she feels more than hears escaping from the Antivan's chest. Her blood feels like liquid joy pulsing through her veins, and her heart is thrumming against her ribcage – she is sure Josephine can feel it.

Indeed, when they finally part to breathe, Josephine's hand slides down from Riayl's shoulder to rest, palm down, over the elf's heart. Slowly dark eyes flutter open, and Riayl loses herself in their gaze for a moment – exchanging promises of affection, of adoration. How did she ever get lucky enough to have this woman fall for _her_? The thought runs through her head, and apparently Josephine is a mind reader as well as an accomplished diplomat; she leans forward, pressing a light kiss to the corner of Riayl's lips. "You, my darling, are a treasure." The hand that had been holding Riayl close by the waist releases, moving instead to explore and gently disengage the wreath from the diplomat's hair.

The expression of delighted surprise on Josephine's face makes Riayl's heart light and giddy once more. "I, I figured out what scents you –," she begins, only to be cut off by the press of lips once more. This kiss is deeper, conveying gratitude, love, desire, and _happiness_. Riayl loses track of time, only knowing that their mouths part and meet again and again, and when they must separate for air it is only by scant centimeters, breaths mixing between them. Her entire body is attuned to Josephine's, hyper aware of every point of contact with the other woman's. Her hands roam from cupping Josephine's cheeks to resting on her waist, to gently stroking up and down her arms, reveling in the shivers her actions elicit.

The shadows have shifted by the time they finally draw apart; the garland is still clutched in Josephine's hand, and Riayl takes it from the Antivan carefully, settling it back on Josephine's hair. "There." She leans forward, brushes a kiss over the smooth skin of Josephine's forehead, savors the electric contact against her lips. "A true princess."

"You flatter me so," Josephine says demurely, but Riayl can see the pleasure in her eyes. A shadow falls across the Antivan's face as she looks at the position of the sun, and she takes both of Riayl's hands in hers. "I regret that I must return to my work, my darling." She raises the elf's hands to her mouth, pressing a kiss to one set of knuckles then the other. "But I would like to see you this evening, if I may?"

Her heart simultaneously clenches at the thought of this moment ending, and stutters in anticipation of spending time with Josephine tonight, even as her skin prickles with the warmth of Josephine's lips. The sensation will linger for hours. "You needn't even ask."

The Ambassador draws away reluctantly, holding onto Riayl's hand until their arms no longer stretch the distance before finally taking her leave. The elf can't suppress the blissful sigh that escapes, hugging herself around the waist as she remembers the feel of Josephine's body against hers.

"So, you and Ruffles, eh?"

The mighty Inquisitor lets out a squeak, spinning around as she is rudely shocked out of her daydream. "_Varric!_ Don't you have better things to do than sneak up on people and spy on them?"

"I dunno Boss, it isn't really spying when you're in plain sight." The dwarf leans back against one of the gazebo's struts, arms crossed. "Besides, you looked a bit busy to notice little old me."

Riayl flushes, remembering just how focused her attention was – not that she minds. "Still. It's rude."

"You two are sickeningly sweet, you know that? Almost worse than Daisy and Hawke." Varric grins at Riayl's outraged expression. "C'mon boss, a _flower crown_?"

"She liked it," Riayl defends herself, although her voice is uncertain. Maybe it was too cheesy, maybe Josephine was only pretending? Maybe –

"Hey, snap out of it! I was only kidding!" The dwarf snaps his fingers twice, drawing the Inquisitor's attention back to the real world. "Even from all the way across the garden I could tell she loved it. She's smitten with you."

"I…no. Varric, we've only been together a week!"

"And you didn't have feelings for her long before that?" The dwarf raises a knowing eyebrow, and Riayl has to look away. "It took you long enough to realize, you know. I was going to start taking bets on when you finally pulled your head out of the sand far enough to notice!"

"…_what_?"

"You've been stuck on her since before Haven, you just didn't know it yet." The dwarf's smirk is palpable as he taps his chest with one blunt finger. "It takes a writer to notice these things, being all observant." Then he has to dodge back to avoid Riayl's swipe, raising his hands in defense, palms out. "No need to get pissy, I'm going!" When he's far enough away that she can't reach him in a lunge, Varric turns back. "Tell Ruffles I said 'good catch'! It took her long enough too!" Then he is gone, his cackle echoing across the garden, spurring a few people to look at the red-as-a-tomato Inquisitor standing in the gazebo, before she turns and disappears from sight as well.


End file.
